


where you are is where i wanna be (next to you and you next to me)

by basementhero



Series: you're the voice i hear inside my head [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Famous Harry, M/M, Non-Famous Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementhero/pseuds/basementhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The practical applications of having a soulmate include being an annoying little shit, long-distance communication, and disgustingly cute romantic duets to repel your friends and family.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>sequel to you're the missing piece i need (the song inside of me)</p>
            </blockquote>





	where you are is where i wanna be (next to you and you next to me)

**Author's Note:**

> title once again unashamedly taken from "Gotta Find You"
> 
> I don't think this makes sense without having read the first part, but I could be wrong.

_I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic!_

Niall considers letting himself fall off the bed: maybe head trauma on the way down will make the song _stop_. He’d been enjoying a pleasant dream involving a kind race of potato people when suddenly the invasive whine of Aqua dragged him kicking and screaming into the waking world. No amount of pillows held over his head could drown it out--and there were a lot of pillows available, thanks to a certain someone’s interior decorating habits. Niall doesn’t get the chance to bask in the pleasant warmth of the morning or enjoy the lingering aroma of his bed partner; no, he has to get up and put an end to the crime against humanity currently cycling through his brain.

He quickly pulls on the first pair of discarded boxer shorts he sees on the floor (only wincing a little when the leftover soreness from last night’s activities makes itself known) and walks determinedly out of the bedroom. As he pads closer to the kitchen, the voice in his head is gradually overtaken by the external source of all of Niall’s troubles. Harry doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish when Niall strides into the room and glares at him; the man, in all his naked glory, instead wears a sly grin. He doesn’t pretend that the song transference was an accident, either, because he and Niall have both noticed an increasing ability to force a song to make it over to the other person. Harry has not been above using that ability to be a little shit since he discovered it.

“You’re the worst,” the blond hisses.

“ _You can brush my hair_ ,” Harry croons back cheekily, “ _undress me everywhere_.”

Niall steps into Harry’s space and lets his forehead fall onto the taller man’s shoulder. “I hate you,” he grumbles, pressing a light kiss onto Harry’s skin afterward.

Harry leans in to speak directly into Niall’s ear. “No you don’t,” he chuckles softly.

The blond pinches the other’s right love handle, not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough that Harry yelps and flinches away.

The brunet steps back and points with teasing smirk down at his boyfriend. “Just for that, you won’t be getting any breakfast.”

Niall sticks out his tongue and pinches Harry again for good measure.

***

When Harry announced that he’d been asked to be the opening act for Ed Sheeran’s next tour, the first thing Niall did was pounce on the man and smother him with congratulatory kisses. The second thing he did was let Harry lead him back to the bedroom. Niall didn’t get around to thinking about the practical consequences of Harry’s announcement until much later, too caught up in celebrating. When the excitement had died down a little, it was actually Harry who got a serious look on his face and brought up the somber reality of him going on tour: separation. Niall couldn’t drop everything and go on tour with him, which meant that they would be apart for several months, a longer stretch of time than they’d been together yet.

_Knowing_ that Niall couldn’t come with him didn’t stop Harry from trying to change that fact. He tried everything he could think of: sex, showing off the exciting destinations they’d be going to, puppy dog eyes, pleading serenades, begging, more sex… Nothing worked, though, and even if Harry was upset about his failed mission, he could concede that Niall had responsibilities he couldn’t abandon at the drop of a hat.

This inevitably led to a tearful airport goodbye, countless promises to call and text and Skype, and the arrangement of a two-week holiday for Niall in which he would visit Harry during the North American leg of the tour.

Niall grins stupidly down at the short video he’s just received on Snapchat from Harry, a ten-second clip of the man saying “good morning” and “love you, Ni” while slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes. The time difference between London and the American west coast is a welcome change from East Asia and Australia, but it’s still just long enough that Niall is well into his day before Harry even wakes up in the morning and Niall is fast asleep for much of Harry’s afternoon and evening. It won’t be long, though, before Niall’s buried under hotel blankets with his boyfriend across the pond. Niall has a calendar on his desk at work counting down the days until his two weeks paid leave, a count which joyously now only reads “3 days.”

“Horan,” a gruff voice barks from above the blond. “I don’t pay you to look at your phone all day.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Niall apologizes quickly, stuffing his phone back into his slacks. “Won’t happen again.”

He gets a stiff nod in acknowledgement and expects his boss to leave, but the man looks at him for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak again. “I need you to take over a project.”

“Alright. What--”

“The details will be forwarded to you by my secretary. I expect a full presentation on my desk in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Niall tries not to let his mouth fall open in horror, but he’s sure his eyes give away his feelings. “Sir, I have the next two weeks off. I scheduled it months ago.”

His boss gives him an unimpressed glare. Niall can’t find the words to argue his case, and finds himself agreeing that he’s needed on the job and will just have to reschedule his holiday some other time. As soon as he’s alone again, Niall slumps down in his ergonomic chair and groans pitifully.

As if on cue, a voice that’s increasingly begun to sound like Harry starts singing in his head to remind Niall of exactly why he’s upset about losing his holiday.

_\--find that I’m missing every beat of your heart; til you’re back in my arms, I’ll be waiting up counting the stars_.

***

Niall spends his commute home trying to think of valid excuses to get out of his near-daily Skype call with Harry. Normally he would just let everything roll off his back, let the disappointment go and reschedule his holiday in a month or two, but this time Niall’s losing more than paid leave: he’s losing his much-anticipated chance to see Harry anytime soon. He’s going to have to tell him, but the anxiety of giving bad news weighs on the blond’s chest. He thinks idly about just not mentioning it, not showing up on his flight and pretending he overslept his alarm or something. Harry would probably buy him a ticket on the next flight out, though, so that wouldn’t work. He could turn in his resignation at work and go see Harry on time, but then he’d be without a job and therefore without a source of income. He knows he has to bite the bullet and disappoint his boyfriend, so it’s with a heavy heart that Niall accepts the other man’s call.

Harry’s face flickers onto the screen, wide grin already in place. Niall would normally spend a few seconds cataloguing his uneven dimples and the messy side-part of his curls, but this time he can barely meet Harry’s eyes and grimace back.

“What’s wrong, love?” Harry asks, immediately catching on to Niall’s distress. The blond hates seeing Harry’s smile drop, and the feeling is only intensified by the knowledge that he’s going to make it worse with just a few sentences.

“I was put on a new project at work today,” he starts cautiously.

Harry tilts his head a bit to the side, clearly confused. “Is that a bad thing?”

“My boss expects a full presentation on its progress in two weeks.”

“That’s—what?” Harry lets his hair fall in his face and then brushes back and to the right with his fingers, all with his lips pursed unpleasantly. “But you’re going on holiday the next two weeks.”

Niall sighs tiredly, running a hand down his face. “I can’t come on holiday. I can’t get off this project.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous!” Harry shouts, shoving himself back from the table he’d placed his laptop on and redoing his hair again for something to do with his hands. “You’ve never taken more than a day off before, and you got this holiday pre-approved last month!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Niall tries not to raise his voice, but he can’t keep completely calm. “There’s nothing I can do, Harry. I’d be sacked if I just took off.”

“So quit. You hate that job anyway.”

“That’s beside the point. I need the job for money. I have bills, you know. Rent and the like?”

“You wouldn’t have to pay rent if you just moved in with me.”

Niall stares at Harry incredulously. Harry had only brought up Niall moving in once before, mostly jokingly, but Niall had thought they’d both agreed that it was too soon. They hadn’t even spent a full three months together before Harry had gone off on tour.

“Think about it,” Harry continues pleadingly, “you could quit your job and come on tour with me, and when we get back you won’t have to worry about money while you look for a job you’d actually like. And like, if you don’t want to work at all, that’s fine too.”

“I can’t uproot my entire life just to come on tour with you,” the blond says coldly. “And I’m not going to live off your money like a—a sugar baby, or something.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Niall doesn’t have a retort and Harry doesn’t have anything else to say, so they both stare awkwardly off-screen in total silence.

“I…have a meeting to get to,” Harry mumbles eventually. Niall can’t tell if he’s telling the truth or not, but he’s not sure that he cares considering he was actively trying to come up with an excuse to end the call as well.

“Alright. Bye.”

Niall clicks the red button to hang up and pushes his laptop closed before Harry’s face has completely vanished.

***

The next week is practically hell on earth. Niall and Harry aren’t speaking to each other, which means that Niall is lonely and cranky and not sleeping well. He never thought he’d be one of those people that can’t sleep without a routine “I love you” from their significant other, but it turns out that he really is that pathetic.

Liam, terrible best friend that he is, isn’t helping at all.

“Why are you saying ‘no’, again?” he had asked, face scrunched in bewilderment.

“We’ve practically just met,” Niall reminded him.

“But you’re soulmates.”

“So?”

“So you’re literally made to be together for the rest of your natural lives. I don’t see why later will be any different than right now.”

Niall had wanted to point out that Liam hadn’t met his soulmate yet and therefore wouldn’t know, but he’d caught himself before saying so and making himself sound like an asshole. Liam, as practical as he can be sometimes, is honestly a hopeless romantic on the inside, in love with the soulmate concept and completely trusting of fate’s life partner decisions. Liam had literally baked a cake to commemorate the first time Niall stayed the night at Harry’s. When Liam _does_ meet his soulmate, Niall won’t be surprised if they immediately shag on the closest flat surface and then head down to the courthouse to deal with the legal paperwork.

Cute as Liam’s romanticism is at times, it doesn’t make it easier for Niall to take his best friend’s not-so-subtle disapproval of his decisions. He wants support, maybe a pint of ice cream or two, not constant suggestion that he pack his bags, turn in his resignation, and take his boyfriend up on his offer.

It also doesn’t help that Niall can’t sing along to his commiserating music. He can’t risk joining Adele’s heartbroken ballads, knowing that the songs could make it to Harry’s head and tip him off that Niall isn’t exactly doing well. He doesn’t know how Harry’s dealing with their fight, but he does know that Harry hasn’t made any moves to reconcile either. Not even a kitschy song to break the tension.

And to top it all off, the project that kept Niall back from his holiday is a trainwreck of missteps and half-done work all piled on top of the job Niall is usually responsible for. He has to put in extra hours to undo the problems he inherited and every time he passes by his boss, the asshole makes condescending remarks about how he’s looking forward to Niall’s finished work. The blond begins to suspect that maybe he was given the project purely so his boss could watch him fail and then have an excuse to sack him. On Thursday, after a particularly nasty phone call where an old lady in Accounting berates Niall for ten straight minutes before hanging up without ever answering his question, he’s had enough. The resignation letter he’s had saved on his desktop since his second month at the company is printed, signed, and set forcefully on his boss’s desk during the man’s two-hour lunch break.

Niall clears out his desk (not that there were many personal items in it anyway) and leaves the office just after one in the afternoon. He doesn’t go home immediately; the silence of the flat seems to daunting, like it might entice the self-pity breakdown that’s waiting to happen, so instead Niall drives to the nearest shopping mall to surround himself in white noise.

***

Louis is sick of Harry’s moping after two hours. There are few things more pitiful and irritating than Harry in a sulk, and it turns out that a sulk brought on by a row with his soulmate just makes Harry extra vexing. Louis refuses to take a side in the argument: he thinks both Niall and Harry are stubborn idiots, and that’s the most attention he’ll give to their antics. Or at least that’s the most attention he’d give if he didn’t have to deal with Harry’s constant pout and subpar concerts due to the couple’s trouble.

He tries to talk Harry into apologizing, whether or not he really means it. Harry ignores him and continues sadly scrolling through all the pictures he has on his phone of Niall. Louis then tries to take the phone away to get Harry to talk to him, but all that gets him is an elbow to the gut.

A week goes by before Louis can’t take it anymore. He storms out of the hotel they’re staying at for the night and straight to the nearest airport, where he gets on a plane to London, determined to do whatever it takes to save his own sanity.

He’d swiped Niall’s address off Harry’s phone before he left. He attempts to call the blond as soon as the plane lands, hoping to get him to agree to a meeting instead of springing one on him, but Niall doesn’t respond. Louis can’t _exactly_ blame him, all things considering. They’d only met once over pizza, so as far as Niall knows, Louis should be firmly on Harry’s side and likely not going to initiate a pleasant conversation. Even if he can understand why he’s being ignored, it doesn’t improve Louis’ mood much as he knocks slightly harsher than socially acceptable on Niall’s door. His pounding might be to the timing of the atrocious song that’s been going through his head since his plane took off: nine hours of some Kanye West trash that Louis wants to strangle someone for.

“It’s open!” an unfamiliar voice calls, muffled, from the other side. Must be Niall’s flatmate, Louis assumes as he goes inside.

It’s not quiet inside the flat. That _damn song_ is playing—only it’s not playing, Louis realizes. It’s _being sung_ by Niall’s flatmate. The asshole is rapping while he folds linens, and Louis is going to kill him, the root of all of Louis’ annoying earworms for as long as he can remember.

“You,” Louis snarls, glowering accusatorily at the man.

“Wha--”

He doesn’t have a chance to finish his question, as he suddenly finds himself with an armful of angry Louis.

***

Niall finally wanders home a bit after seven. He walks slowly, his feet dragging on the floor, like his body is weighted down by the force of his melancholy and it’s therefore much harder to move his limbs. He digs out his key and shoves it into the lock; it does nothing to unlock the door, he finds, because the door is already unlocked. Normally Niall would make a point to take the piss out of Liam for such a thing, considering the number of times he’s had to listen to the other’s lecture on safety precautions every time he’s done the same thing, but today, Niall’s just not feeling like playful ribbing. He closes and locks the door behind him without a fuss.

As Niall takes off his shoes, he notices that there is no smell of food wafting into his nose. Usually around this time Liam would be cooking dinner or at least have takeout delivered. In fact, the flat is almost eerily quiet. Niall is sure that Liam would have texted if he was going out, especially considering Niall’s emotional state of late.

The quiet fades, though, as Niall walks further into the flat. Instead he hears ragged breaths and faint moans and the recognizable sound of mouths attaching and detaching and reattaching. Niall’s walk becomes hesitant, but he really doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and the sounds are coming from the living room, which he has to pass in order to sequester himself in his room.

As expected, Niall finds Liam snogging someone vigorously on the sofa. The surprise is that Niall recognizes the person straddling his best mate’s hips.

“ _Louis_?” the blond gasps.

The two separate their faces immediately. Liam’s face goes red and he can’t meet Niall’s eyes; Louis, on the other hand, grins lecherously and doesn’t bother to remove himself from Liam’s person.

“You didn’t tell me you were hiding _him_ in your flat,” the older man drawls. “Would’ve insisted on that dinner Harry suggested, if I’d known.”

Niall definitely does not let his face fall at the mention of Harry. “Didn’t know Liam was in to snogging strange men,” he says to cover up his frown.

“Strange?” Louis cries indignantly, mostly covered up by Liam’s “We’re soulmates.”

“Christ, Liam, really? You two?”

Liam nods enthusiastically. He’s still blushing, but he smiles so brightly that his eyes are barely slits.

“Congrats, mate. But…uh…d’ya think you could make out in your room?”

Liam’s face turns redder as he awkwardly nods. He can’t make that happen, however, with Louis still sitting on him (well, he _could_ , but that would involve carrying the other man, which he doesn’t want to do in front of Niall). Louis doesn’t move to get up; he stares Niall down, making the blond uncomfortable and confused.

“I’ve booked you on an overnight flight to the next tour stop. British Airways. You can pick your ticket up at the desk.”

“I can’t just--”

“You can and you will. You and Harry can have a proper talk face-to-face and then get over yourselves. Liam and I are tired of your bullshit.”

Niall looks to Liam for help, but the man only shrugs from underneath his soulmate. “I’ve told you to talk to him, Nialler.”

Seeing that he’s not going to get any assistance from Liam, nor will he be able to get Louis off his back, Niall relents. He just hopes that Harry doesn’t immediately kick him back on a plane to London, far away from him.

***

The flight gives Niall a lot of time to think. He tries to sleep instead, but there’s a baby crying two rows ahead of him and a couple arguing a few behind him and his seatmate is an elderly man who keeps asking questions Niall can’t answer about the plane, so he settles for thinking to pass the time.

Harry hadn’t meant to offend Niall or imply anything less-than-wholesome when he suggested the blond move in with him—alright, maybe there were some unwholesome activities implied, but nothing that Niall hadn’t already consented to on multiple occasions. Harry had just been offering the help and financial support required to see Niall through what Harry had seen as a necessary career move: a move which Niall ultimately made anyway, no matter how he’d protested before. Harry had probably also suggested the move purely for selfish reasons, wanting to see and talk to and feel up his lover at his leisure when they were both home. Niall can concede that he overreacted, misinterpreted Harry’s words too quickly and didn’t give the other man a chance to explain.

On the other hand, Niall is still afraid. He loves Harry and trusts that Harry loves him—they’re _soulmates_ , after all—but he still doesn’t quite know how to reconcile Niall the individual with Niall the fated lover of Harry E. Styles. He’s heard all the horror stories of people completely abandoning themselves and their principles to be with their soulmates, people driven to depression or pulled into crimes. He doesn’t think Harry’s a serial killer who’s going to use Niall as a sort of built-in accomplice, but he also doesn’t think that he can completely abandon every piece of what was his life a handful of months ago just because he’s now met his soulmate. Niall and Harry don’t know each other _that_ well yet; Harry hasn’t been to Ireland to meet Niall’s family and Niall hasn’t met Gemma. Niall doesn’t even know Harry’s favorite flavor of ice cream (although he thinks maybe Harry’s answer would be that he’s more of a frozen yogurt sort of person). Making a life together is a huge step, one that Niall’s terrified he’ll take too soon and wind up unhappy with, or one that Harry will end up regretting once he has to see every side of Niall, not just the put-together version Niall has tried to be when they’ve spent time with each other so far.

Regardless, Niall is certain that they can’t keep ignoring each other—at least, he can’t keep ignoring Harry, because he’s sad and lonely and he could really use a nice cuddle to cheer him up. Maybe Harry would be content to drag on the silent treatment for a while longer, but Niall severely doubts it.

“ _I think I might_ ,” he whisper-sings to himself while exiting the plane, “ _give up everything, just ask me to_.”

Louis has arranged for someone to pick Niall up from the airport and drive him to wherever Harry is when the plane lands. The blond Irishman is thus left in an awkward car ride with a bulky security guard who doesn’t even introduce himself, merely says that Louis called and so he’s taking Niall to the hotel. Niall is only somewhat aware of the time zones he’s just crossed, knows that it’s some amount of time past midnight where he is in America but not the specifics. There is effectively no traffic due to the hour and very few employees in the hotel as the security guard leads Niall through the lobby and into a lift. If Niall were less focused on what he’s going to say to Harry, he would have had a claustrophobia-induced panic in the tiny metal box. As it is, he barely notices the lack of space before the ride is over and he’s being ushered to a room at the end of the hall.

The security guy gives Niall a room key and leaves, clearly unimpressed with the whole ordeal he’s been dragged into. Niall doesn’t let himself stare fearfully at the door handle for an hour like he wants to; instead, he swipes the keycard and pushes open the door immediately with a force that comes from avoiding anxiety with sheer speed.

When Niall gets far enough into the room to see the bed, he finds Harry sprawled across the mattress on his stomach, snoring softly into a mountain of pillows. His lanky limbs are all over the place, tangled in the sheets and taking up as much space as possible, although still mostly confined to one side of the bed, like he’s leaving space for someone to fill. Niall can’t help but find it adorable, especially the crazy mess that Harry’s hair has become after probably a couple of hours rolling around. Judging by the skin on display, Niall assumes that Harry has gone to bed naked; this is not surprising in the least, but it does make Niall’s face flush a bit. He’s not come last-minute all the way to America to ogle Harry, no matter how nice the man’s back and arms and arse look. Niall steels his resolve and tip-toes over to sit on the mattress at Harry’s side.

“Harry,” he whispers, reaching out to brush a few curls away from the other’s face.

Harry scrunches his nose for a moment, but doesn’t appear to wake up any further.

“Harry,” Niall says a bit louder, gently shaking the shoulder closest to him.

Nothing changes.

Niall goes for the love handles, pinching like he usually would when Harry’s being a cheeky twat. “ _Harry_.”

It brings about the desired result: Harry jolts awake, blinking wildly as he tries to adjust to consciousness.

“What the f—Niall?”

The blond shrinks down under his lover’s gaze, smiling uncomfortably. This whole ‘surprise Harry’ plan seems stupid now that he’s here.

Harry sits up, the sheets pooling in his lap enough to keep his modesty (not that it really matters to the man in question). “What are you doing here?”

“I, um…came out to see you?”

“What about your job?”

“I quit.”

Harry stares, and Niall tries to find something else to look at without making it obvious that he’s avoiding the green eyes practically boring into his soul.

“C’mere,” Harry finally says, wrapping his arms around Niall and pulling the blond to his chest. Niall folds his own arms around Harry’s waist and snuggles in comfortably.

“You didn’t quit just because I told you to, right?” Harry murmurs into Niall’s forehead after a lingering kiss to the same spot.

“No. I’ve hated that job longer than I’ve known you,” Niall admits readily, tracing the tattoos he can see with his eyes. “Just needed a push, I guess.”

“Good. I just want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy, with you…”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, nothing but the sound of their breathing as the two calm down from a long week of angsting and an even longer period of separation.

“…Liam and Louis are soulmates,” Niall reveals casually. He tilts his head up to catch Harry’s shock. It doesn’t disappoint, sending the blond into a fit of sniggering.

“Impossible,” Harry insists, almost pleadingly.

“Did Louis ever have a thing for “Hey there Delilah”?” Niall asks with a raised eyebrow.

Harry’s answer comes in the form of his face going considerably paler, clearly horrified by the notion that their best friends have been irrevocably teamed up by fate. Niall can understand his pain. He places a hand on Harry’s shoulder and leans in to kiss the poor man as a consolation. He doesn’t expect Harry to respond by manhandling Niall onto his back in the middle of the bed and hovering on top of him.

“I don’t want to think about Liam and Louis anymore,” Harry says in his sultry voice—the one that makes Niall turn into a puddle of goo, thankful that he won’t be collapsing to the floor because he’s already laying down. “I’ve missed you, Ni.”

Niall smiles sappily, reaching up to frame Harry’s face with his hands. “I missed you too.”

Harry shifts his weight from his hands to his forearms, bracketing Niall’s head and looking far too pleased with himself. “I hope you don’t have anywhere to be for the next few days. We have a lot of… _catching up_ to do.”

“You have a show later.”

“Shhh,” Harry shushes Niall’s logic and follows up with a searing kiss. “Insignificant details.”

“It’s rather significant, Haz--”

Niall gets an exasperated huff for his troubles; he laughs at Harry’s put out expression. Harry can’t hold it for long, drawn in by Niall’s laughter until he’s chuckling, too.

***

“ _Leeyum_ ,” Louis whines into his phone, “make them _stop_.”

“What have they done this time?”

“ _Duets_.”

In the middle of a meeting two mornings ago with record company executives, Louis had noticed when Harry started stifling giggles behind his hand and wearing a dopey smile instead of paying attention to the report on his record sales. He’d _definitely_ noticed when Harry starting singing Shania Twain under his breath. That was just the tip of the iceberg. Any time Harry and Niall were apart for more than twenty minutes, innocent bystanders on either side would report one of the two beginning a song and the other picking it up moments later. It’s almost better for everyone involved if the couple is always literally attached at the hip, because at least the disgusting sight of their love is better than the _sound_ of it. People can _look_ away, but it’s much harder to supply the entire tour crew with earplugs.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Lou.”

“Take Niall back.”

“ _I_ don’t want to listen to his half of the songs! You can keep them both.”

“I’m going to _die_ , Liam. Are you really going to let your soulmate _die_?”

Liam just laughs at his melodrama, completely useless at saving Louis from his plight. “We could start up our own duets, if you want. Fight fire with fire?”

“Ugh, no,” Louis groans miserably, slumping further down into his chair. “They’ll just try to turn us into a quartet.”

“You could find some duct tape?”

“Tried that,” Louis shudders at the memory. “Didn’t go over well. I don’t recommend it.”

“I’ll see what I can do when I get in this weekend, alright, love? You can survive until Friday.”

“ _Can I_ , Liam? You haven’t heard the things I’ve heard. You don’t know how serious this is.”

“In the meantime you can bring up Justin Bieber. Niall might start singing, but Harry will be too jealous to join in.”

Louis shoots up in his seat delightedly. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant. I knew there was a reason you were my soulmate."


End file.
